Conversations with Renault
by Writer Awakened
Summary: In the final days on the Isle of Valor, people seek out Bishop Renault for guidance. Piece by piece he learns of his companions' story, and bit by bit he comes to grips with his own inner torment. Updated again, back from the dead! Part V: Nino, who seeks a guide. Chapter 1 recently rewritten!
1. Vaida, who seeks courage

_Prologue: Merlinus, who seeks a beginning and an end  
_

- O -

The elder bishop leaned back against the wall of the convoy. The wagons rolled along the path at a steady pace. Alone again, Father Renault saw no need for any words. Instead, the bishop pressed his eyes shut and tried to expunge the burdens of his past in one exhalation. The convoy made a nice sound as it rolled along, and the quiet was so appreciated that the bishop did not even mind being stuck in one of the rear wagons of the chain, with the fruit and the bags of rice.

The wagons were arranged in such a way that even while on the move, the passengers could move here and there undeterred. In the wagons ahead, Renault heard the sounds of rustling and bustling and the sound of the old merchant Merlinus humming even as he listened idly his own breath. They would reach their destination soon- soon enough, at least. On Valor, nothing was for sure, nothing was ever certain, nothing was ever guaranteed. Renault groaned a bit and massaged his face beneath callused fingers.

"Ahhh, Father Renault?"

"Hmm?" Renault opened his eyes and looked to the flap at one end of the wagon. Merlinus slipped his way in and briefly begged forgiveness for disturbing the priest's rest. He was forgiven.

"I hate to disturb you, but I think there are some people who want to see you. Well, one, anyway. And, er...she is a bit insistent."

"Yes? Let her come, if she wants to. Who am I to say how to run your operations."

"Hrm! Right, right, of course." Merlinus said, fixing his coat. "Well, I'll just let them come in, yes. So much to do today. Really, Father! So many things to be sorting and organizing- oh, how demanding running a caravan really is! Things going missing without cause, fruit stores trampled upon here and there. I've scrolls a league long not enough to categorize my wares. Hrm…"

The merchant slipped his way back out, grumbling all the while, and Renault passed something resembling both a sigh and a chuckle. His lips were parched and his throat was dry, and the flask of water at his side lasted only so long.

"Quite a talkative man. I wonder who wishes to speak with me?"

- O -

_Part I: Vaida, who seeks courage_

- O -

The caravan rolled along. The sounds of faint yelling and the rustling of wares clattered in the wagon ahead. Renault continued to wonder just when the people Merlinus mentioned would come to speak.

"Piddling old man! Out of my way, will you?" Clamor from the wagon ahead.

_My visitor._

"Nnyah! Y-y-yes, Dame Vaida! But don't crush my wares underfoot!"

"It's necessary just to pass through, old fool! Maybe if you cleaned this damn thing up! Believe me, I don't want my greaves stained with fruit and berries and such any more than you want them trampled on! Pah!"

Renault was about to chuckle when the forward flap of the wagon burst open and a tall woman worked her way in. The bishop opened an eye.

"Ah, and you might be…"

"You," Vaida said, looking around the wagon as though someone might be hiding even in this cramped place. "Bishop man."

Renault held his composure and kept from sighing. _I suppose I am called a bishop now. Perhaps I'll never accustom myself to the title…_ "That's as good a name as any," he answered at last.

"Hark, and listen to me." Vaida sat with her legs crossed in front of the bishop, one hand on her chin and the other bracing the floor. "You _are_ a bishop, aren't you?"

"I…suppose they call me that, yes. I am a member of Elimine's clergy, though I fear I'm not-"

"Good!" Vaida said, missing nary a beat. "You see, I had taken several slabs of meat from the convoy meat wagon the other day to roast over a spit. Pah, it figures I took the very worst pieces. Even Umbriel wouldn't eat some of that! Anyway, I guess I shouldn't have done, so here I am."

"Ah…so you've come to confess."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Smart man. Now do your job. Nextly, I must admit, I stole an extra spear when mine broke, without accounting for it to the doddering old simp that cares for that thing. Hah! What, do they need it rusting away at storage? It should be in the hands of someone who can use it, like me, and I've no place sitting at a desk filling in scrolls whenever I need a fresh spear! How shameful that old fool Merlinus bursts the lines on his forehead every time a _single_ thing goes missing without notice."

"Erm…I'm sorry. I am not in a position to absolve you of-"

"And that time I impaled that soldier when he dropped his lance," Vaida continued, "An 'unarmed foe', hmph. Shameful fool should not have dropped the thing in the first place! I don't show mercy or hesitation to my enemies. Every enemy standing is a threat that could one day end the life of Prince Zephiel. What do I care if he hands me an opening on a silver platter?" She sighed deeply. "Still, I suppose I should still ask for your forgiveness?"

"And a talkative one too, it seems," Renault said wryly, turning away and then turning back. "Forgive _me_. I could forgive your sins and say a few words of prayer, but what good would it do? I'm not much a better bishop than you are a listener. You seem to be satisfied merely hearing yourself speak, so take that as you will."

"What? All this time spent here and you can't spare even a single kind word? I didn't come here to be patronized." Vaida stood up and leered down at the bishop. "Worthless little man! Why did I even come here?" she spat, turning and storming out of the chamber.

_That's a very good question._

What a difficult thing it was. The caravan clomped along and Renault sighed again, this time pinching his forehead. He closed his eyes and tried to see a time where he could tell a proud warrior like that to hold her head high, bite her lip, and spill some more blood to make it better. Try as he might, he was unable, and unable, and…unable. All he could see was the disgraceful darkness when he closed his eyes.

"How can I forgive you of your sins, dame knight, when I have not even forgiven myself for mine?"

- O -

Renault snapped awake. A quick glance outside told him it was dusk. Time had passed, it seemed. The priest shook the sleep out of his eyes before returning to his seat, placing one hand on his stave. The evening air was cautiously optimistic tonight, wafting over mild scents of wildflowers from the mountains afar.

_Ah, is it night already? Hmm…what did she call herself? Nothing, I believe…_

The flap of the tent swung open and a scar walked in, askin' about a bishop.

_Elimine preserve me…_

"Your Excellency!"

"Y-Yes?" The sudden show of respect startled Renault.

Vaida walked in and knelt before the bishop, making a great show of the gesture. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for what I said before. You're a bishop, after all. A man of God, so for as much as I've never seen or felt the blessing of the Saint, it would be ill tidings to be in Her bad graces. Do you think you can absolve me of my sins?"

"May I ask your name first?"

"Hmm…" Vaida said, smiling and chuckling. "Is that some fool way to come onto me?"

_What? _"No, I just don't know your name."

"Ehh. What is a name but a vulgar simplification of the self? My lance is my name. But, if you must, my name is Vaida of Bern. Formerly Commander Vaida of one of the most decorated wings of Bern's wyvern-riding arm. Now, just Vaida will do."

"Ah, Vaida. Then…what is it you are fearing?" Renault asked. "If it is forgiveness you seek, I can take your sins, but…what good would it do? Would that solve your problems?"

"I don't know, old man! You tell me!"

Renault shook his head. "What is it you wish to achieve? What is it you fight for?"

"I fight for the future king of Bern only! I live to carve a path for Prince Zephiel out of the corpses of my enemies. He has a mind for the kingship, a knowledge of military and a wisdom beyond his years. I would fight to protect that. I know well that I fly headlong into my death, Bishop. Do you think I continue to fight because I have a claim in this stupid battle? One day my liege will be king, and he will return Bern to its former glory. I am no one's errand bitch!"

The caravan rolled along, occasionally hitting a bump that jarred the passengers, but never stopping for a moment.

"You have…already resigned yourself to your fate?"

Vaida nodded and gave her iciest stare. "Fate. You talk as though I plan to meet my death head-on. Hmph. My own death will never see me coming! I court danger. I won't run from it. If that is 'resigning myself to my fate' by your tongue, then you must be a brazen man, bucking your own fate like that. Do you plan to live forever? Or are you craven, Father?"

"Do you make a habit of talking to men of the cloth like this?" Renault asked, his amusement slowly peeling away to reveal irritation. "If I'd known becoming a bishop would be so difficult, I'd've taken up archery."

Vaida laughed, so loud that Renault had to look around to ensure there was no one else there, sharing her boisterous mirth.

"Well, you have a sense of humor, Your Excellency, I'll say that much. Even if you can't unburden me of all my misdeeds, you may yet serve me with a few good laughs."

"Glad to help."

"If you want my assurances that I won't die," Vaida said, "you are hard on your luck. I've decided where my allegiances lie. I'd die anyway eventually, wouldn't I? What does it matter the exact moment? A death in battle, a death in the name of my sworn lord...not a craven's death, no! But even so, I regret. I've done wrong before, and I'm sure I'll do wrong again. Still, I'm seeking forgiveness, aren't I?"

"Yes. Yes, I suppose you are. And, I _suppose_ even the recognition of the fact is…good."

"So…am I forgiven?"

Renault sighed. "If you can look at yourself and say that you are forgiven, then you are forgiven. I cannot do so for you."

"W-what? What is _that_, old man?" Vaida spat, rising to her feet. "I didn't come here for you to tell me to forgive _myself_! Gragh! Blathering priestly fool…"

As Vaida strode out the door, Renault vowed that as strongly as the feeling came to him, he would not pity her. The Saint would do that for him.

_Forgive her, Elimine mine, for she know not what she do._

- O -

The next morning at dawn, Renault took a piece of fruit (orange-colored, whatever it was) and began to eat. He sat in his usual place and waited. He briefly wondered whether the caravan had lost its way. It would not have been the only one.

The flap of the convoy swung open and the tall woman with the demon scar on her cheek entered. She knelt.

"Holy man."

"…huh. Demoted from "Your Excellency', hm? As much as I dislike titles and ostentation, I-"

Vaida lifted her head and glowered at the bishop. He shut up quick.

"I've got something to tell you. You must not tell anyone this, understand?"

"You have my word."

"If you betray my trust, I'll crush you like a worm under my heel…don't think that because you're a holy man that I'll spare you the brunt of my lance. I'll not let you defame me, old fox!"

"I would not dare," the bishop said quite honestly. "And I do believe that you would strike me down. I'm beyond the age where I could equal you in a fight, Dame Vaida. So speak your peace, if it will ease you."

Vaida paused, as if she was unsure if she even wanted to say it now. She had been met with no opposition, and seemed a bit unnerved. She bit at her lip. As funny as the old man was, he seemed a pretty wise fellow.

Renault sighed. Was it going to be a long day today, too?

"Very well," the wyvern knight said at last. "Truth be told, I am afraid. I have sworn my lance to the rightful king of Bern, Zephiel. I drive on to death. Nothing awaits me but peril. Death...if I'm lucky." She laughed dryly. "Hell welcomes my coming. And still, through all of that…I fear. I fear that an errant arrow or foreign lapdog's knife might take Prince Zephiel's life. I fear that I might die before I might see Bern again rise as a place worthy of my pride. I fear that I might die wondering if I had made the right choice so long ago, to leave my home and join the ranks of the Dragonknights of Bern. As much as I seek it, as much as I deliver it, I fear death. More than anything. To fight, that's the easiest. In times of war, who cares? Live in the moment. But in times of peace, I've time enough to think and wonder and agonize coldly about the death I cannot see, or fight, or reckon with. Hah…so what do you think of that? If you are not completely useless, then give me some courage, old man."

"Ah…"

"Don't know what to say, huh?" Vaida sneered. "Think ill of me, do you?"

Renault shook his head. "On the contrary, Dame Vaida. I understand."

"Huh."

"I cannot tell you how to live your days. I can only offer you my advice: the pain of death and the pain of living are the same. What differs is one's perception of it, you understand? If you find greater value in either, then seek it. There is nothing greater than finding your purpose. Once I lived, delivering death to my enemies, with the best sword money could buy, and a custom suit of armor forged for me alone so that no knife or errant arrow could take me down. I was obsessed with living. That if I died I would lose all the fame, all the money, all the joys of living however I chose, free to plunder and rape and murder, a sellsword truly let loose and free to the wind. I came to the cloth prostrate. The prodigal son, beginning with nothing, and ending with nothing."

Vaida stood up, her eyes turned toward the floor solemnly.

"Do all that you can in the time you can. That's all I can say. For some, there is no purpose except to seek…" Renault's voice trailed off and he looked upwards. Not even the grain of the world could keep him from sighing with his eyes closed. "I've lived between life and death for so long now. There is one last task to accomplish, and then…what will be will be."

After a few moments, Vaida nodded slowly. She murmured something that might have been a word of gratitude, and left the wagon, greaves clanking solid against the floor until finally her footfalls faded away.


	2. Serra, who silently seeks solace

_Part II: Serra, who silently seeks solace (sort of)_

- O -

The wheels of the caravan rattled along the uneven ground. Renault sat inside one of the wagons as usual, immersing himself in meditation. With every bump he became slightly more perturbed, until at last he opened one eye and sighed. When at last he realized he could not sleep in such bumpy terrain, he sighed and began to rub his chin. Just as he realized it might be time to shave, he heard a thump at the entrance of the wagon as a young girl jumped semi-heroically in, landing on her feet with no shortage of flair for the dramatic.

"Ah! Elder bishop!"

"Mm?" Renault turned his head up. "Are you, perchance…one of Elimine's own?"

The girl nodded cheerfully. She wore a cleric's modest white habit and had wonderfully expressive pink hair, the kind of color that just didn't exist outside of the human sphere. "Of course, Your Excellency!" she said. "I am a cleric of the graceful Saint Elimine, none other!"

"So it would seem," said Renault. He had expected as much, but the moment the girl spoke, the less sure he was of her apparent self-indulgent piety. Either way, now he was along for the ride. The _bumpy_ ride. "What is it you have come to see me for, my child?"

"Oh, I just wanted to see if the rumors were true," she said, popping about the room and nearly trampling some of the fruit in the wagon underfoot. Renault clandestinely pushed a pile of fruit aside, the one that he expected to eat, and prayed to Elimine that Serra at least wouldn't squish those.

"Er…rumors?"

"Of course! I had heard that there was a strapping young male bishop of Elimine joined our company!"

"Oh. I…see," Renault replied. "Well, I am a bishop, I suppose. Though I don't…well, perhaps I am not the most _pious_ of souls, but"

"I had heard this bishop was an astoundingly beautiful young man," Serra interrupted, looking around the room and simply threatening to burst with an…_inhuman_ glee. "Another one! How lucky can a cute young cleric be? Hee hee! You wouldn't happen to have seen him, would you? I know we of our Order stick together. Especially the boys! One wouldn't think to look for boys in the Order, but oooh! I don't know about that; some of the handsomest boys I've met have come looking to meet Miss Elimine!"

Renault didn't rightly know what to say. That he would call their Saint and savior "Miss" mystified him, for one, but that a person like this could simply exist was enough to boggle his mind. His jaw, in fact, fell agape. "Well…erm…perhaps there has been another practitioner come to us, but as for me…I daresay my 'glory years' have passed me by, so…"

"Oh," Serra said, clearly disappointed. "You don't know, then? I'm sorry, he must not have joined with you. Unless…" Serra stood poised in the frame of the wagon, turning her head this way and that. Curious, she approached the bishop like a cat cornering a mouse: curiously predatory. She sized him up, idly sniffed at the air, put a hand in front of his face, and generally used what Renault assumed was some 'girl-cleric-super-sense'.

"They weren't talking about…no…could they? Were they? Talking about…" Serra said, voice trailing off. She knelt before Renault with a pensive look. "…you? Your Excellency? Were they?"

Renault opened his mouth to speak, but was battered down.

"Oh. Oh! _Oh_! Oh, I'm so sorry!" Serra blurted, rising to her feet only to bow, and again, and again. "Your Great Grace Excellency, Father, I'm sorry!" She fell to her knees and clasped her hands. "Please forgive me! I didn't mean any disrespect, elder bishop, really! Please don't excommunicate me, _pleeeeeeeease_!"

"Ah, it is…alright?" Renault shrugged. "I have neither the desire nor the authority to excommunicate you. Really, I shouldn't be preaching of Elimine at all after all I've seen, but here I am.

"It's just, I was really hoping it would be another cute boy; not to say you aren't one!" Serra added, waving her hands in front of her. "For a man of, um, your age, you _are_ quite handsome. Just, you're not a- er, I mean…well, I was just really, really, _really_ hoping it would be a y-um…oh, I'm sorry, Father! Just making things worse, huh? Ehehe..."

"Eh." Renault tried to seem less flabbergasted than he truly was, which was proving significantly more difficult than he would have imagined. "I don't suppose you'd…like to confess something? Or…something?"

"Oh…oh! Um…well…can I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

"Oh. Um, I mean-"

"I was jesting," Renault said. He didn't do it often: maybe this was why. "Please, continue."

_It's going to be a long day.  
_

"Well, what I wanted to ask was…can you tell me how I'm doing as a cleric? I mean, you know…I try to be a pious person, I always try to say my prayers to the good Saint, but I always end up perilously perceptively per-…perpiculated!"

Renault sighed.

_A long, long, long, long day.  
_

"I don't know how you are doing as a cleric. I have never seen you before. In fact, I don't even know your name."

"Oh, Father!" Serra said, her face upset, looking as though she wanted to fling her arms around the old man and squeeze. _Squeeze_. "I'm so discouraged."

"…I don't suppose you'd tell me why?"

"Why?" Serra parroted. "Because I don't even know your name yet!"

_What? I just asked her what _her_ name wa- oh, gracious Elimine…_

"My name is Renault."

"Renault? What a great name!" Serra serenaded. "That's a great name! What a nice name."

"As I'm sure yours is as well, but I don't see how that's at all relevant." Renault said, taking an apple and munching on it. _Enthusiastic, but nice. I…think._

"Well, you know… 'respect thy elders', right? I always pray for my elders whenever I pray…even when I go out shopping for a hip new habit…and when I go to eat…or when I lay me down to sleep...I always never forget to pray for my elders!"

Among various other things, Renault wondered at the verity of that statement.

"But, Father…" Serra said, looking up into his face. "Um…what was your name again?"

"_Renault_."

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Father Renault! I'm terrible with names, really- oh, has anyone told you how nice that name is? Anyway, um…I try to be…what was it…oh! I try to be a good cleric, but it's _sooooo_ annoying having to say my prayers all the time."

Renault scratched his (surely graying) hair. "Well, as long as you show your devotion and faith" -the wagon went 'ka-_rump_!'- "to Elimine in other ways, you should be-"

"Oh!" Serra blurted, a Divine-bulb lighting above her head. Figuratively speaking. "And, I think Saint Elimine is great and all, but…you know…you _do_ know, right?"

"Er…know what now?" Renault shrugged again. Sheepishly.

"It's because she's so graceful and beautiful and elegant and so annoyingly _omnipotent_! The idea of such a beautiful woman looking down on us really annoys me. Really, I'm beautiful too! People like me. I mean, of course they do. But I can't be that much less perfect, _right_?"

Not for the first time, Renault was struck speechless. Serra excused herself, saying she was growing flustered. As if she were the only one. Renault simply sat there silently, looking off blankly into space for quite a time.

_Gracious __Elimine, give me strength. Guide me through these…times of peril. Though by now you're probably as nonplussed as I am.  
_

- O-

The next day was uneventful for Father Renault. The morning passed without much of interest. The caravan seemed to be nearing their destination, but from Merlinus's lamenting in the wagon ahead, Renault deduced they had lost their way and had been set back. Renault was slowly growing tired of the ranting: "Hyaaah! Lord Eliwood and Lord Hector are just too proud to get directions. Surely good folks as them could find _someone_ who knows the way! Didn't we go there before, anyway? Hyaaaaaah~!"

After the passing of the morning and afternoon, the dusk came, as the bishop knew it would. Renault leaned against the wall of the cavern, finishing a piece of fruit and a leg of roast and sighing.

"Whatever happened to that girl from the other day?" he wondered, and too late he realized what a bad idea that was.

He was violently tossed from his quiet introspection when said girl burst into his wagon, just as enthusiastically as she had the first time.

"Good morning, Father…Father! Father, are you awake?"

Renault opened his eyes, hands instinctively reaching for the now empty notch on his belt. "Yes, yes, I am, child. And, isn't it a little late to be-"

"Evening! It's evening now. And, I have something important to say."

Renault cocked an eyebrow. "Truly? Tell me, if you want."

"Well…I'm afraid…that no one here…"

"Yes?"

"…likes me."

Renault sat up and motioned for Serra to sit. She did. "I see," he said. "What would _possibly_ cause you to think that, my child?"

"Well, I mean…everyone around me just seems so annoyed with me, and I don't know why!" She looked over at Renault with pleading eyes, her hands crossed and her fingers playing with one another. Little creatures chirped in the brisk night. Her glance skirted from the bishop's face to the open night air, and emotion tugged at her face. "I mean, I don't try to be annoying. I mean, who tries to be annoying? But…everyone just seems to think I'm a bother."

"Er…well…"

"You don't think me a bother, do you, Father Renault?" Serra leaned in closer, her eyes beady and large.

_Saint_ _Elimine,_ Renault said as he sat there, listening, _you preach truth and kindness…but what if the two things are mutually exclusive?_

"Well, er…what do _you_ think of yourself, child?"

"Well, I'm the center of attention! I always have been! People respect me, and fear me, and sometimes hate me out of spite, but no one is ever annoyed with me! It's just what girls do, isn't it? I thought so, anyway. Now, I don't know."

"Don't know?

"Yeah!" Serra said, sitting back, her face suddenly a great deal more perplexed. "I think…I think that I'm a beautiful girl, of course! I always take the time to comb and fix my hair, I wash my hair in the springs, and- and I have a great fas-fashion sense, and…and I…I'm cute, and I…you know, people want to be like me! And around me! Since I was little, I've always had tons of...t-tons..." She bit her lips and choked over her words. "Oh, bishop, I'm…I'm alone! All alone! No one wants me!"

Renault folded her arms and watched as Serra sat, arms around her knees, rocking forwards and back, sobbing. Alone. The word cut like a knife. They could not have been less alike, but that one word struck him as familiarly as any.

_Alone? Alone..._

"Child…be well.. It's all right. Mourn for yourself if you must. Show your sadness, your grief. Let it leave you forever." _God knows, I've mourned plenty. Should I mourn for her as I have mourned my own path? Is there anything there left for me _to_ mourn?_

Serra sat sobbing, and Renault lamented. Again, there were so many questions, and he had no answers. And this time, it hurt more than just himself.

- O -

Renault woke the following day wanting for sleep. He leaned against the side of the wagon, half-heartedly eating a piece of fruit (something purple, whatever it was). The world was misted over today, and he heard the every _thump_ of the wagon's movement today. _Thump thump_, it intruded upon his thoughts and muddled them further. He found himself thinking more and more about the poor, crying little girl that haunted him, kept him awake. Some nights, the kills of his old conquests rushed back and kept him cold and sweaty upon waking; at least then he could say he awoke with a night of sleep tucked in his robes. Now…

There was movement at the flap of the wagon, and so Renault's head and heart leapt up. A mustached man showed himself.

"Ah, Bishop!"

"Oh…" Renault looked around. "Ahhh…yes?"

"Are you alright?" Merlinus asked, looking at the fruit store Renault had remaining.

Renault paused. "I am…fine, thank you."

"Ahhhh hmmm…I see. Well, are you quite sure? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

_Not this time._ "No, I'm fine. Just a bit fatigued."

"Ah, of course, from all the _sitting_!" Merlinus said, turning away, chuckling and muttering softly to himself: "Ha ha, 'all the sitting', oh ho…ha ha…"

The morning could have drawn thin and the elder bishop wouldn't have known. Sitting alone, he stared off at the wall, but in his mind he peered into the depths of the starry sky, where no meaning was fit for the mouths of men. Somewhere out there, a message: the meaning to every life, the answer to every question, the solution to every problem. Renault reached a weathered hand out and it was like he was a child reaching out for the jar on the top shelf, so distant and unattainable.

His fingers came down grasping air. He was at someone or something's mercy, after all those years of being the merciless. His face and his shoulders were formally introduced to the floor of the wagon and he forgot where he was going.

A hand shook him.

"Father…Father Renault! Oh, wake up! Are you alright?"

Renault bolted upright. "Ah! Huh, huh…what…what happened?"

Serra knelt over Renault as he sat up, looked around. "Were you asleep, elder?" she asked.

"Huh? Asleep?" _Why now, God? Is this the time to be calling me?_"Er, ye- ah…I don't know, actually"-

"Oh, thank Elimine! I was scared! I thought something was really wrong!"

Renault sat against the wall and shook his head. "Is there something you wanted to see me for?"

"Um…actually, there is. I…wanted to thank you for yesterday."

"…eh?" _I didn't…do anything…did I?_

"You…you're the only one who would even consider listening to me…" Serra said, her arms folded and her head bowed just a bit. "Everyone else would just walk away when I started babbling about _problems_, but you listened to me…thank you. You know, it's hard to talk about...you know..._feelings_. And no one else really, really cares, so."

"Well, I _am_ a bishop. It is my duty to listen to your confessions."

"But you listened! You didn't…send me away, or say I was annoying or unimportant…"

"No, I couldn't." Renault swallowed and shut his eyes. "I couldn't turn away anyone in their time of need…not anymore, I couldn't."

"And…and you think I'm kind!" Serra said, now on the verge of tears, but she smiled. "Thank you! Isn't it true that I'm beautiful?"

"Yes? Yes, of course. Stop worrying."

"See?" A tear rolled down her cheek. "And it's okay if you think I'm totally weak and vain; you're not a cute boy or one of the other girls, so who cares what you think of me, really. So they'll never know, and Your Excellency certainly wouldn't tell anyone else, of course!"

"R-Right. As you will. Your logic does have a strange bit of sense. A very strange bit of logical sense, yes."

Serra smiled, chuckled, laughed. "Hee hee…thank you, Father! I can't tell you how much better I feel. Maybe if I found some new herbs to make a perfume out of! Or a new dress! Ooh, here I go then!"

"Child, wait!"

She stopped again, turned around again, and her pink hair flapped behind her again. "Mm-hmm?"

Renault put a hand to his head. "Er, I still don't know your name."

Serra giggled. "That'll just be _ourrr_ little secret," she said, and disappeared as dramatically as she had appeared.

"Our little secret?" Renault wondered, alone again. He threw his arms up in frustration. "_But I don't even know your_-oh, never mind."


	3. Legault, who seeks closure

_Part III: Legault, who seeks closure_

- - -

Author's Note: There are some light descriptions of sensuality later in the chapter, take note. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

- - -

Father Renault lamented how often he had to sit and listen to the caravan's wheels. The wheels went _ka-thump ka-thump_ against the ground, and now the elder bishop reckoned he could recite the monotonous melody by heart, by ear, by hook and by crook. It wasn't a huge problem, it wasn't a major harm, only a minor annoyance. A little nitpicky part of him wondered that if, after coming this many centuries, he hadn't come to accept even the simplest things, that maybe—

At that moment, a man sneaked his way into the wagon, and by the time Renault looked up, the man was already standing over him.

"What the"—

"Oh, sorry," the man said nonchalantly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He fingered a knife at his side without seeming to realize he did so. "Er…did I disturb you?"

"Ah…not particularly," Renault said. _How did he get in here without my noticing? I wasn't even doing anything! What if he were an assassin?_

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," the man said, leaning against the far wall of the wagon, legs pressed together, arms folded, head up. "You're Renault…Bishop Renault, no?"

"I am," Renault said, nodding. "Praise God. Meaning praise that you wouldn't harm me, not praise that I am who I am, is what I meant. And you are?"

The as-of-yet-unknown fellow chuckled. Was holy-person humor always this awkward, he wondered. "I'm a man better left unnamed," the man said, but added, "Call me Legault. I'm a deserter and a member of your merry band of rogues. I might be a wanted man, probably, actually most definitely, and only innocent of a few things. Some call me the Hurricane, a stampede of speed and disharmony. I _was_ one of the Black Fang once, after all."

"I…see," Renault said after a moment. He quite honestly could not think of what to say to that. Then, "Legault, was it?"

"I know. Renault, Legault, next thing you know they'll say we're at fault."

"Huh. I daresay we're not…unless…" Renault tilted his head and looked at the man. Rather tall, rail-thin, purple hair, scar. He looked like the kind of guy who had many things to hide. "You were kidding."

"That's exactly it," Legault said. "Kidding. Anyway, I've something I'd like to admit to you, if that is all there is to do."

"That's why I'm here," Renault said. Legault's irreverence was…well, what was it? All in the name of good humor, he supposed. But here comes the hurricane…Renault braced himself. "Go ahead, son."

"Erm…" Legault shook his head. "Ah, 'son'? Tsk. Well, anyway, I'm a thief. That's my trade. Excuse both my subtlety and my lack thereof. But I am a thief. Consequently, I end up stealing things, strangely enough. While in the course of stealing things, I usually end up pilfering, filching, and otherwise surreptitiously borrowing things from others without their permission and without intent to return them or to acknowledge said goods were not my property in the first place. Follow?"

Somewhere off in the distance, a sparrow flew around and chirped nonsensically.

Renault, meanwhile, scratched his head. "I think you're trying to say you stole something. Stop being so circular and just tell me why y—"

"Alright, I'm getting to it," Legault interrupted. "There are some other things I've done that probably deserve redemption, but since I've never really believed in a Saint, I won't go into anything like that. Well, I'll say there's something I feel particularly bad stealing, and that I think I should at least confess to someone once before…" Legault paused, and Renault wondered what his pained look was for. "…before I die."

"I see. I am not a very good priest, but I would be happy to listen. What would you like to say?"

"Well," Legault said, stepping around the wagon as it ka-thumped around, "I feel particularly badly because I stole it from one of my 'friends', as it were. No, actually…maybe not a friend, but someone whom I felt comfortable with, at least."

Renault's hands briefly fell to his belongings before he realized he didn't really have anything of worth save for his staff and some fruit (which belonged chiefly to Merlinus). That, in itself, was a problem, but not one large enough to bother him. Possessions, after all, were worldly, and they couldn't keep a man cool in the summers or warm at night. "And what is this item you stole?"

"You see, some things, once taken, cannot easily be replaced…" Legault said, leaning against the wall again and looking out the flap of the wagon. "Some things are so precious that once they've been taken, poof! That's it, it's over. Much like life, isn't it?"

Renault shut his eyes and drew in a breath. He was doing this on purpose, wasn't he? The journey was long and arduous, but this man's little wanderings were worst of all. Renault wondered if this Legault fellow was like this all the time. Then he realized that thieves and spies were not supposed to have acquaintances. For one who was liable to disappear without a trace and without notice, it was unwise to be attached to any one person or any one place. For a moment, Renault thought a memory had passed through his mind and left. Memories never made friends either.

"Would you at least tell me what you are talking about? I don't understand."

"Something very precious."

"Then tell me what you have stolen," Renault said, "and be done."

"Someone's virginity."

- - -

The night passed. Renault was shaken out of his self-enforced sleep by a particularly hard thump of the wagon. He heard Merlinus in the wagon ahead.

"Oh, oh! Botheration! Honestly, does Lord Hector need to be this careless? My wares are going to get ruined! Argh, and to think I offered them my services! Oh dear, this escapade is turning out to be a blessing and a curse! No, but I couldn't spite them, my dear lords, after all they have done for me, no, no, I couldn't, simply couldn't—"

Renault shook his head, and banished the remaining bits of sleep. Today had been a tiring day, but it wasn't the morning. It was evening already, apparently. Renault remembered that a strange purple-haired man named Legault confessed he had stolen someone's virginity. Then he had left, strangely enough. Was that all he wanted? He had been very cagey about the whole matter.

Renault sighed. He figured that in some way, the roguish fellow's declaration had contributed to the elder priest's bizarre and carnal dreams. The disjointed, physical visions had not been about anyone in this company. No, none of the women in this company were Arcadian. He remembered the man whom he had helped, and how he had brought him to that place, the place where dragons and humans lived in harmony. Renault tried to shut the memory away, but his dreams would not oblige.

He saw a woman. Extraordinary in both beauty and accomplishments. A woman truly worthy of the label Arcadian. Having a woman like that came with the territory of being a successful mercenary and burglar with a full pocket. Strangely enough, the priest had been with her before. Many, many times before. A long, long time ago. He never, ever thought he would see her again. She was nothing special to him, just another memory surging through his skull.

Renault grasped his forehead. Why? Why was all of this coming back now? They were old, stagnant memories from another world, another time, long ago and far away, from places where highways wouldn't cross. None of these memories were important or had a reason. Their very resurfacing in his tattered dreamscape sickened and shamed him. So why had they returned? And why were there so many blank spots? Why? Renault nearly pounded a fist against the wall of the wagon. Why couldn't he remember parts of yesterday? Why couldn't he remember last night's dreams? Why couldn't he remember why he had been so hated and feared, and how he had changed over these past centuries?

Why couldn't he remember who he _was_?

No. Renault, priest, been in the clergy for Elimine knows how long. A wanderer long since redeemed from hatred and greed and lust by the knowledge of the Saint. A new man. That's who he was.

_That's who I am. No one more, no one else. I seek penance from that past, but I am no longer him. I can learn to feel again. I can learn to touch again, I can remember how to feel…I just have to forget…_

Renault ran his hands along the floor blindly and grasped a piece of some fruit. He shoved it into his mouth.

_No, I...I...I remember…I remember sitting at a table, eating meat, and killing a man because he looked at my food strange, I remember killing for sport and money, I remember killing a man because he looked at my woman's breasts, I remember killing my woman because she—oh Elimine, why? Why, Elimine? Why this, why now, after all I've done, why—_

"I'm sorry…this wouldn't happen to be a bad time, now would it?"

Renault opened his eyes and looked up. Legault was briefly startled at the look in the priest's eyes.

"Are you all right?"

"Ah…oh, yes…" Renault's face was pale. "Ah…ah yes, I'm…fine. Come in."

"I could always come back later," Legault said, looking out the flap of the wagon. "I have all the time in the world, I guess. And night isn't the most hospitable of times, though I am most comfortable then…"

"No, no. I will do my duty. I apologize for being a bit...preoccupied. Come, sit down."

Renault gestured to the floor in front of him, but Legault shook his head and leaned against the opposite wall of the wagon.

"I'll stand. I feel a bit more comfortable standing. But thank you anyway. I hope you don't mind if I tell you a little story? I don't usually talk unless I have something interesting to say."

"I am always here to listen. I cannot hope to do the Saint justice, but I will certainly try." Renault replied.

"Very well, then. Good. This story starts back when I was still a member of the Black Fang. I'm sure you have heard a little about the enemy we are fighting, correct?"

"I have heard some things, yes," Renault affirmed. Valor had taught him many things, one of his lessons being that evil was eternal, and some of those who kept it knew how to spin that to their own benefit.

"Well, I'll spare you the broadest details, then," Legault said. He sighed. "I'll tell you my story. When I was with the Black Fang, back when they were a—dare I say it?—respectable organization, I helped in any way I could. At the beginning, when it was just me, Jan, Uhai, the brothers Reed, and all the old faces, that was when I could say we could sleep soundly at night and mean it. But things changed. Sonia, with the golden eyes, and the shadowed enigma, Nergal—" Renault's heart missed a beat in his chest— "came, and the Fang changed."

Legault paused to take a breath. His eyes darted about the inside of the wagon.

"Things changed, the bit players changed. Everyone was still there, but now they were trying to maintain their ideals while adhering to an entirely new set of principles. Now we had fundamentally good people essentially resorting to contract killings. Before, we tried to justify everything we did—we never killed an innocent, only out-of-touch nobles who abused their power and criminals to whom the jailers of Bern turned a blind eye. After that, we became what amounted to glorified thugs. I give credit to Brendan and his sons for keeping the group together for as long as they did. But I'm not going to go rambling on about that. That's not why I came here.

"You see, there was one woman I had worked with for a few years by the name of Aesha. She was a good girl, an equal, never failing to do anything her superiors commanded. She and I got on well. She told me about how she had family back home, in a place where there was no snow. She told me many things about herself, many of them seemingly innocuous things that one could nevertheless use against her. One day she hurt her right arm when one of her victims fought back. Her injury doomed her as an assassin and she was dismissed from the Fang, but that wasn't the end of it."

Renault looked up. The thief leaned against the wall, one fist resting on his chin, the other in his pocket. His body was scrunched inward as if to protect itself, his eyes staring down his own chest.

"In the new Fang," Legault continued, his voice cool, "I had almost solely one duty, what they called the 'cleaner'. Anyone in the Fang stayed a fang, and if anyone broke off, it was someone's job to chip off the tooth and grind the pieces to dust. Do you understand? Anyone who turned traitor or, alternatively, anyone who couldn't do their job was weeded out. It was my job to take those persons' lives. But that's not why I came here. I'm probably boring you, aren't I? Because you are a bishop, you're obligated to listen, but I would assume you're probably suffering listening to me ramble on."

Renault shook his head and gingerly bit into a fresh plum. "No, not at all. Please continue."

"Well, my next job was a difficult one," Legault continued. "Some of the new spies in the organization had tracked down everyone who had ever left the Black Fang…where they lived, who their families were, where they lived. In those days, my direct superiors were different…some man I didn't even know told me to kill that Aesha woman. The following night I had crept to her house, where she apparently lived alone in a small city. Once the world turned completely black I broke in."

"She was lying prostrate on her bed, and even from a distance in the dark I could tell it was her. She had wonderful shoulder-length chestnut hair, a chest to sunder the heavens, and her right arm was awkwardly twisted, sleeping without covers with only a thin nightgown on. She was quite the exquisite beauty. I'm a thief. I'm supposed to remember little things like this."

Legault closed his eyes. He was remembering, Renault guessed. It looked to the bishop as though Legault were swallowing away a painful memory one sentence at a time with every word clanking mechanically down his throat. His description of the sleeping woman—_Arcadian?_—and her features reminded Renault of his past, as well.

"At that time," Legault continued, "I was still a member of the Black Fang without doubts. No matter how it changed, it was still the Fang, as I saw it. My knife…a sleeping victim. I would have no trouble doing as I always did. And then, I walked towards her bed without making a sound, my knife in my right hand, and she raised her head up.

"She said my name quietly, but loud enough for me to hear. And then she asked me what I was doing here, but I knew that she knew why. I didn't answer her; what was I going to say, really? 'Here I am, come to take your life'? That would be like making a farce out of a tragedy. Then she said something to the extent of 'Come over here', and I came over until I was at the edge of her bed, and she said 'I love you, Legault.' Hah…isn't it funny how life works? A crippled assassin, and now she had exposed another weakness to her character. We rogues aren't supposed to let anything, least of all _emotion_, come between our duties, which might explain why I was caught so utterly unawares by what she said. I guess she was a poor assassin after all! I'm not," Legault added suddenly after chuckling, turning to look the sitting bishop in the eyes, "boring you, am I?"

Renault shook his head, his lips pursed.

"I'm glad. I probably would have continued anyway. Where was I? Oh yes. She said she loved me, and then she said something I would have never expected. 'Take me', she said, and she was _pleading_. 'Take me, use me as you please, you may do whatever you wish to me,' and then 'I'm a virgin. Don't let me die without knowing a man's—' and then she hesitated— 'no, _your_ love.' And I remember standing there, confounded, wondering if this was all a ploy to catch me off-guard between her fingers, and then, of course, I realized that she was not the sort of person to play games of the mind like that. Thinking on it, maybe that was why she failed as an assassin."

"And I," Legault continued, still balancing on one foot with one hand on his chin and other at his hip, "I—I couldn't—if I were here to kill her, at least I—I could not—how should I say this? I couldn't begrudge her this one wish. She—oh, what is this?" and Legault turned his head aside, bearing what was, to Renault, a look of extreme complications, pain mixed with passion and guilt and hesitation. Legault continued, "She lifted her white nightgown over her nude body and called me in, with the only ray of moonlight in the room completely missing her body, though I could see everything with my eyes—a hawk's, you see. And when I hesitated, she said, 'No tricks. I'm unarmed. You can do whatever you want with me. Please. It's all right.' No, no, it wasn't all right, but I suppose love perverts and makes fools and beggars out of the greatest people."

Legault paused again, now absent-mindedly fingering the exposed handle of his knife, never fully gripping it, only slowly rubbing his fingers against the hilt. He continued after a moment.

"I usually keep my knife at my belt," Legault said, "so I was loath to remove it for any reason, but I—I did. I removed every bit of clothing except my shirt and placed them at the foot of her bed, and to this day I don't know why I did, I don't think I could ever even explain. Ah, Great Bishop…perhaps you would not approve, but I felt no connection, no strong feelings of love, not a single flitter of holy unity or sanctity. In fact, I don't right think I was thinking at all, only feeling. I made love to her without being able to look her in the eye; in fact, I believe I had my eyes closed the entire time. Her lips—her lips were against one of my ears, moaning sadly, and she kept saying 'I love you, I love you' like a mantra or some such thing, pulling her arms around my back and raking her nails against the back of my shirt, her left arm stronger than her right. Her body was cold, colder even than mine, and her legs alone were almost like ice wrapped around my back. And I never thought it appropriate to kiss her once, even if—even if she did smell of cinnamon, and her cheek brushed against mine as if begging me. I couldn't rightly tell her that her saying 'I love you' all those times meant nothing to me.

"When it was over, after my strength had returned after momentarily leaving, I knelt over her, retrieved my belt and unsheathed my knife. She didn't even say a word, she just sighed and pressed her eyes closed and held her legs together and folded her hands over her chest, and I took her life. It only looked like she was in pain for a second, then she let go, and had probably made peace with Elimine or whomever already. I dressed myself and left. I didn't know whether to feel a tiny bit more absolved, or guilty. It was only the third time I had ever felt guilt like that, the second being the first time I killed a person, the first being when I was a young lad, making love for the first time in an apple grove with my shirt on. The night I killed Aesha was the first time I ever considered…leaving the Black Fang. And here I am. It isn't even so much that I killed her; both of us knew it could happen and would happen. But at that moment, that I obliged her, that I made her 'unchaste' at her request, that..."

Renault, who was sitting with his eyes closed, hands folded, looked up at the thief. "I see," he said at last. "And you wish to release your guilt."

Legault nodded. "I've never told anyone this before. Until now it was a secret between me and—well, only me, though I'm sure you would think otherwise, Father. Now, it's a secret between us two. I suppose it was an odd thing to have told, but I feel relieved having told someone else. I guess that is a weakness of mine, isn't it? Ah well."

"Sometimes there are secrets that burn the heart if held inside," Renault said. "For what you have said…there is something to the idea of letting go of everything that pains. If what you did allowed that woman to die happily…then that was all you could do. You can't undo what has already been done, and so the only course of action is to be the man who you want to be when the future arrives."

"I've killed so many, for so many different reasons," Legault said. "I've killed before and I will surely kill again. Being a thief or a spy or an assassin is a horrible thing, and should be reserved only for foul rogues like myself. It's the kind of position where you can hate yourself and think logically when alone, but you have to love yourself and believe yourself when you have a knife in your hands. You can never doubt yourself for a second."

"If you had the choice to relive that night," Renault said calmly, "would you make love to that woman again?"

It took Legault a few moments to respond. "I—I think that I would do it again, if she would ask me again. And I think I would have kissed her-- once. There are worse things to do, after all. But I could not adhere myself to true romance or even to a tryst. I don't think I could subject the other person to the notion that one day I would make a mistake and be never seen again above ground. I'm not that strong, honestly."

After a moment, Legault turned to the flap of the wagon and made to leave, thanking the bishop for listening.

"Wait," Renault said, he stood up, his crumpled teal robes falling to the ground beside him. He steadied his hand against the wooden wall as the wagon _ka-thump-thumped_ along. "You should at least know, my son, that you are not alone."

Legault turned around and stared at the bishop.

"I, too, have made difficult choices in my life. I've spited people out of my own cruelty, I've acted without rhyme or reason. In my past I've acted lustfully to feed my own desires for treasure, women, and fame, if only because I thought those things would make me happy, without never actually loving someone because of their _being_. But you've a compassion to you, I can tell. Nurture that compassion. Even if you never truly adore anyone, as long as you care about them, you can find a way to be happy, even if it is only fleeting."

"It's a bit too late for that."

"It is _never_ too late."

Legault looked outside at the dim twilight, as the caravan had seemed to stop. "I'll keep that in mind. But don't pray for a silly wretch like me, Father. Pray for her."

Renault nodded. "I will."


	4. Karel, who seeks blood

_Part IV: Karel, who seeks blood_

Renault dreamt of a darkened room. He dreamt of a man in unobtrusive dark clothing rummaging through drawers looking for something, looking for valuables in hidden places. He dreamt of an angry, angry man with a heart overfilling with darkness, who had on the ends of his arms hands that felt greedy and power-hungry whenever they moved. In one was clutched a small dagger, in the other a thin piece of metal for prying open locked things. He dreamt of a man who appeared in a doorway in his sleeping-clothes and ran to bar his path, sword in hand, yelling you will never take my son you thief or some such futile thing. Then the man raised the knife to the other man's throat, slicing across then burying it in the man's chest. The sound of evil laughter, and then blackness.

"Don't move. Don't move a muscle."

Renault opened his eyes and looked around. He sat back against the wall of the wagon, his sight flickering into focus, groggy. His face was soaked with cold sweat. He saw the phantom image of a knife and a face filled with fear fade away from his mind.

_What—what happened? This—_

"Do you want to die? Do you need to feel the taste of blood?"

_Who is that?_

Renault felt steel against his neck. It was cold. Standing before him was a man in a long blue robe and a long, curved blade that looked to be from the East. Renault slowly inched his head up to see a face leering hatefully down at him, a terrible plateau curtained by straight strands of black hair. The blade was steady against the bishop's neck.

"Who—who are you?" Renault said, swallowing. The man sneered indifferently.

"Don't say a word You are...strong. I can tell. Whoever you are. Maybe your blood can sate my blade. I challenge you, warrior. A fight to the death." The man holding the blade smiled. His body trembled as though someone had grabbed him by the arms and shook him. His eyes were glassy and distant-and red, blood-red upon bone-white. Renault's heart sank. For one fleeting moment he thought he saw a devil living in the man's face, beckoning him, ready to take him away from Elimine's Paradise and drag him, kicking and screaming if it must, into hell itself. Renault kept silent and recited a prayer in his head.

The caravan did not seem to be moving. The elder bishop found it hard to swallow. His eyes slowly looked around, trying to learn what he could. The wagon was near light-less, so it was probably still night. There were neither sounds of complaining nor snores from the adjacent wagon, so Merlinus was likely absent. The man who threatened him was tall, with a loose, wiry frame, and a deathly pale face, sustained only by the pale fire burning in his eyes. In fragments of seconds, Renault sized him up. He would be fast but with his frame and his unstable mindset, easily knocked off balance. He wore a light robe but no armor and his stance was that of a Sacaen swordmaster. Likely he would try to end the fight in a single stroke, and if not, a steady offense could disrupt his footwork. He was young, so he could surely outlast Renault should neither end it quickly.

An isolated part of Renault's mind told him it would be easy, it would be simple enough to flay the intruder with one fluid horizontal stroke. He felt ready. Ready to fight, ready to kill, and a chill coursed through his body at how quickly the feeling had struck.

"I've heard you were quite a master swordsman, long ago," the man holding the blade said, his voice frighteningly calm and void of affect. He grinned to belie his placid tone, still quivering in anticipation. "A legendary mercenary, seeker of power,."

"That…that was long ago," Renault said. "Why—why do you say this? What is it that you want?"

"I want a good fight. I think…" The man looked down. Renault could not tell but it seemed to him as though the man's arms were trembling. "I think that I would like to spill your blood, man. No, less than a man, just a doll, a lump of flesh and bone and sinew. I'll make an end to it. It dies today and I will revel over your defeat."

"I am no warrior!" Renault said, nearly yelling. He turned his head to the side and stared off at the blank wall of the caravan. He wanted the distantly familiar feeling of electricity barreling through his veins to disappear. "I am a humble servant of Elimine, and nothing more."

"Why do you lie? Are you ashamed of your strength, or afraid?"

"W-what are you talking about?"

"Take the sword." The man took from underneath his robes a small silver sword and threw it on the ground at the bishop's feet. He then slowly withdrew the curved blade from the holy man's neck, stepped back, and readied his blade at his waist with both hands, crouched low, eyes gleaning.

"W-What in the good name of the Saint is this?"

"I am giving you your chance to fight me. My name is Karel, demon the sword." Karel licked his lips, his night-black hair disheveled and unruly. "Banish me to hell, Reverend, or I'll deliver you to heaven!"

Karel charged forward. Renault almost reached for the silver sword, stopped, closed his eyes, and then opened them. The tip of Karel's blade was lodged in the wooden wall behind him, a hair's length to the side of Renault's robed arm.

"Are you that ready to lay down and die? Killing means nothing if you don't fight. I came here looking for a good fight, not to slaughter you like a bloody, wailing lamb." Karel pulled his sword from the wall, stepped back. "I will gut you. Do you understand? I will cut every piece of meat from your flesh and snap your bones. Do you understand?"

_What is this? _Renault thought. Without even understanding, he leaped to his feet, snatched the silvered sword in his hand, and readied it, arms and legs remembering their proper positions after years of neglect, as if he had never laid down his sword to begin with. _Am I still dreaming? I cannot be! But this is a nightmare—like a nightmare— a nightmare incarnate!_

"Good! Now," Karel said, and he walked forward, his blade held loosely to the side. "You can see what true bloodlust is. You know it too, don't you? Just look into your eyes, can't you see it?" Karel's face lit and he smiled wildly, cackling as he rushed forward, his body low against the ground, so quickly it was like the wind itself and he swept in with his blade, curving in an upward arc towards Renault, and time began to slow, as though this were seen through the monocle of Saint Elimine herself.

_Who is this man?! _Renault thought as the marauder moved his blade towards him, and Renault moved his blade to match without even thinking. _This can't be a random assassin. God save me! My lord!  
_

A timely block deflected the first stroke. Karel switched the blade's position to the other side of his body, leaned low again and slashed again, again deflected by the larger edge of the bishop's silver sword. He attacked again and retreated, attacked again and retreated, until the slashes were coming from all angles, every horizontal thrust nearly grazing the walls of the wagon, every upward strike cutting the ceiling, every movement of the bishop's sword coming only as a reflex, only as a defensive maneuver to shield his body from the unrelenting strikes. One stroke of the demon's blade rose upward, and Renault leaned forward and thrust the weight of his body behind his blade. Karel stepped back, pulling his blade away, almost dancing backwards with his feet _rump_-_rumping_ against the floor of the wagon. His sword whirled around him like a whorl of wind. Renault took the precious moment to breathe in.

Karel laughed, holding his blade downward to his right side, moving his feet left and right as if caging his prey. Slowly, his monotone had turned to a manic wail. "For a bishop, you're no pacifist! You're a demon! A demon like me! Just as thirsty with fever as I am! Blood! It calls to me, screams at me, squirms in me! Just die!"

The demon charged forward again and Renault clenched his teeth. For one fraction of a second as Karel charged forth he had felt extremely angry, and at last succumbed to the feeling of power that had washed over him. Renault gripped his sword so hard his palms began to burn and charged forward to meet the devil.

_I can't back down, won't back down. This is for my life!_

The blades clanged together and Renault charged forward shoulder-first with the full force of his weight, causing Karel to fall and slam against the rear wall of the wagon. The bishop thrust his sword into the air with his right hand and yelled, a terrible bellow enough to cause the sides of the wagon to tremble and titter. It was a yell he had not heard in years. For a moment, the fire in Karel's eyes flickered. Hate alit on Renault's face, the hilt of the sword digging against his palms, the belly of the blade ready to sunder the bloody fool in two. He felt powerful. It was a feeling he had not felt in years, and he didn't think again. He moved, and brought his sword crashing down.

- O -

Everything was a fog. Renault woke from his dream to find himself in a wagon, the phantom images of a knife in his hand and a sword against his neck disappearing with this mist. The wagon was pitch-black and was as silent as death. Renault struggled to stand, and when he did he fell to his knees again. He put his hand against his chest to find his palm soaked with blood, the entire front of his robes stained a dark crimson. His body shook. He felt nauseous. Renault removed his bloodied robe, removed his undershirt, took his staff from his belt, laid its tip against his forehead, and without needing to think, began to pray.

_O God…o savior Elimine, my saint, my guiding light, please save me in my time of need. Give me the strength to go on, the strength you've given us all. Save me in my time of need, O Elimine.  
_

The bishop fell back against the wall and after a few seconds began to feel less light-headed. He slowly rose. There was large slash wound across his chest, which still bled slowly but stung less. The floor of the wagon was drenched in blood. At one end of the cabin there was a slumped figure in a blue Easterner's robe, a deep thrusting wound near his ribs, and a large gash across his chin. Renault slowly walked over to him and knelt.

"You. Child. Child, are you well? Did I—did you?"

_Gracious Saint, why can I not remember? Those nights so long ago, when I woke in a pool of my own blood, surrounded by corpses...am I to never escape that madness?  
_

The slumped figure on the ground groaned, opened its eyes, and weakly looked up at Renault. "You," he said, cringing, sneering sourly, twitching like an injured creature in the forest. "You. You were stronger. Stronger than I was."

"Karel, was it? Why? What did you mean to accomplish by doing what you did? Who are you?" The bishop looked on sternly, his mending staff still crossed in his arms. The injured man paused a while before he answered, and when he finally opened his eyes and his mouth to speak again, the bishop was surprised to see the hate and malice dwelling quietly in his features.

"I am one of you," Karel said.

"What? One of…us?"

"Your ally. I came with this group to this Isle for one reason," Karel said, with some difficulty. "To bathe…in blood. To perfect the godly art of the sword. To feast on the greatest displays of swordsmanship. I am of a dying breed. The fever...burns within me. I thought you would understand, but you never could."

"Is that your reason?" said Renault. "For honor? Or challenge? Why? Why did you try to kill me? What does killing me accomplish?" _And why did I—?_

"Uuu-uughhh…" Karel clutched his head with his left hand, and Renault saw it was covered in his blood. His right hand was beginning to loosen its grip on the hilt of his blade. His body rose and shook with every deep, labored breath he took. The demon continued to moan, holding his eyes shut. "Wanted…I wanted to know. Wanted to know—who was greater. That is my purpose."

"Why? What is great about bleeding and dying, truly? What is great about taking a man's life? Is that creation's only easy answer?"

Karel continued to groan, taking large, labored breaths with his mouth, clenching his teeth. He started to roll onto his right side, then screamed in pain and rolled over onto his left, gnashing his teeth, sucking in sharp breaths with every opportunity, digging his fingers into his skull. His teeth chattered, first subtly, then so hard that Renault could almost hear cracking.

"It hurts. It burns!" Karel moaned. "Cursed...in pain...forever."

Renault looked at Karel, squinting his eyes through the darkness, and saw a wound on the right side of his body, near his ribs, a great sanguine patch on his ocean-blue robes. Renault laid his staff against the wound and prayed.

"Blessed Elimine, save this man in his time of need. By your will, by the light, by the grace of all that is holy, _MEND THIS MAN'S FLESH_!"

And as his spirit worked to transfer the energies to the tip of the rod and then to the fallen man's wounds, Renault thought, _And why am I begging Elimine to save this man? Why would I not leave him for dead, as he has tried to take my life? Is this the action that came to me without thinking? Is this my redemption? Is it too late? God, let this all be a dream. Dreams are so much easier to make sense of.  
_

Minutes passed, then Renault slowly removed his staff from the wound. Karel leaned his head up, opened his eyes slowly, and looked at the elderly bishop.

"You—"

"Don't say anything. Your wounds are grave, but you should be all right as long as you don't move and re-open them." Renault slowly rose to his feet. "Rest, child. Sleep now."

"Sleep…I have not been able to for years."

Renault stopped and knelt again, staring into the man's eyes. "For years, say you?"

"Every night, the hunger to kill keeps my eyes open until I can sate it. Cannot lie still. The fever _burns_ within me. Like something alive...cursing me, coursing through me."

"To kill…"

"No," Karel said, looking down at his bloodied hands. "The need to make the living realize. I am no one's pawn. And the dogs...they all come after me, hunting for a kill, attracted by the scent of blood...and I...I must kill them. They cannot...cannot stand...gahhhhnnnggg..." Karel winced and his hand moved to his side; Renault caught his arm by the wrist as it moved, and looked sternly into the demon's face. The demon gazed back.

"Don't touch it. You'll only make it worse. It's best if you do not move." Renault handed Karel an elixir and he quickly finished it.

"Why are you helping me, old man?" Karel said. "Kill me. I've no worth left. I've been beaten by one whose skills surpass mine. Kill me."

Renault looked down, and the two men stared at each other, silent. It was still the dark of night, the cicadas quietly chirping in the background.

"No."

"What?"

"I said no." Renault crossed his staff in his arms. "I am a servant of Elimine. It is my duty to help the wounded and sick. That is my purpose. I would do it even if you tried to stop me. But you will hurt no one else."

Karel gritted his teeth. "You. Senseless, ignorant f—"

"_Silence_!" Renault barked, and the demon seemed surprised. His eyes, bloodshot and almost feral, sized up the bishop. "I, too, was without a purpose once. But if this is where Elimine's will has guided me, then it is here I will stay until my time on this world is over. I've learned to live for more than just killing. It took years to retrain myself, not to let my anger, my need for vengeance control me. Have you already given up on living life as it should be?"

"I'm so tired…I would welcome sleeping forever," Karel's head lolled to one side. "I'm tired of the thirst. As tired as you are, elder."

"I am tired indeed. I haven't slept, truly slept, for centuries."

One of Karel's eyes rose. "Centuries? Is that long enough…to atone?"

"To atone?"

"I slaughtered my family," Karel said, with the air of one admitting to stealing a piece of meat. "I left my home on the earth under the sky for one somewhere on the edge of hell. I'm beyond redemption. I am a murderer, and murder is against the teachings of your god, is it not? This is my end. My life is forfeit. Kill me."

"No."

"_Kill me_."

"I will not."

"Are you afraid to finish your deed, or does being a saint restrain your fury? _Kill me!_"

"I will not!"

_I will not!_ Renault thought. _Why this man, in this place, at this time? Why have…why have _I_ appeared before myself? I know there is redemption for this man…_I know_ there is redemption for him! There is no man who is beyond redemption. I cannot...not after so many gave up on me...I cannot let this man waste away.  
_

Karel scoffed. "Gah. Very well. I know what it means to kill legends. I am the rightful God of the Blade. Yet killing me would gain you nothing, is that right? Are those the teachings of your cult? I am the one they call the Sword Demon. The scourge of the earth, the dread murderer. And yet you do not believe in blood for blood? Who am I, if not your enemy? I've killed the greatest warriors on this earth and still I fade away. If you won't kill me, then leave me to disappear."

"If it is your wish to disappear, then maybe you will," Renault said. The night was cold, and he could not simply dress himself in his bloodied clothing again. He wrapped his burly, scarred arms around his shoulders. "If that is what you wish for yourself…to disappear without a trace, without ever asking yourself who you really were…then maybe you will disappear, and it will be as though you never existed. And when your end comes and you are judged by the deeds of your life, could you say what you are? Do you really wish to be judged by your deeds? Is this all you have aspired for?"

"Why do you live, bishop?" Karel said, sitting up with his shoulders against the wagon's rear wall. "For what do you live? You might have a purpose, but a defeated warrior is nothing. Nothing. The lust for blood passes, and nothing remains but the red ribbons of flesh. It is like the hunger for food, and one's purpose is only to eat for all eternity. How do you call that living? I have no reason to live. In any other place, I would be dead. If not for your misplaced mercy, I would be dead."

Renault sat against one of the wagon's walls and pulled a blanket over his shoulders. Through the darkness, he saw Karel fingering the hilt of his sword with his right hand. He did not know where his silver sword had fallen, but he had no intention of picking it up again, even if the demon raised its blade again. "You are," Renault said at last, "a strange person. Though I suppose if I saw my younger self I would say the same of him. Have you always lived this way, surrounded by death and decay?"

"...I suppose you have the right to know. The sword. I was born seeing the sword. I was always the greatest one. I am a man. I _must_ hold the sword. That is my burden."

"How did this begin?"

"I didn't have a choice." Karel brushed a strand of black hair from his face and coughed. "I had to kill. From a young age, I learned. Father Sky and Mother Earth…they won't protect us sorry bastards of the plains. I spent most my days with bloody hands."

"So you…you lived on the plains of Sacae?" Renault leaned forward.

"I was not part of their culture," Karel said. "We were on the edge of it all. We were the lost clan, the ones who never were. We had no one chief, no tribal name, no respect among the other Sacaens. The Law of Sacae did not apply to us. We were invisible to them and they to us. We were less than animals. We were dirt. I wanted it to end and start over. That wasn't my place. I wanted to burn it down and begin again. To build a place for me and my sister to belong. But she turned her back on me, unwilling to spill the blood of all those responsible for our suffering."

"Is that what you wanted?"

Karel closed his eyes. "Is that your skill, to ask difficult questions? Hrm." There was a long pause, and then Karel licked his lips. "Dry…" he said, and then, "I do not know what I ever wanted. But I was taught by my 'gods' that what I wanted didn't matter. As long as I am proud, I serve my purpose. My duty is to succeed the sword...and that's it. It is all I know. It is all I have ever wanted to know."

Renault was silent. _He is not like the Fang. He may be disillusioned, but his heart is whole. He doesn't understand what it means to be human yet. He_'s_...like me. He is the same man I was, murdering all those people to attain what can never be attained. Chasing some unreasonable ideal.  
_

"I have done nothing," Karel continued. "I am a disgrace. I have no pride left."

"Is that what you believe?" Renault said, looking into Karel's eyes. They were weak, battered down. "Can you look me in the eyes and tell me _that is what you believe_?"

"I told you."

"Do you honestly believe your 'pride' is everything? What does pride mean to you, child? Why is it important to be so proud of your every action? Who was it that taught you those lessons?"

"I don't know," Karel said at last. He tried to stand, but fell down, head hitting against the back wall, arms falling limp. "Damn."

"I was a proud fool like you once," Renault said. Karel was too weak to respond; instead he closed his eyes and seemed to listen. The bishop, meanwhile, wrapped the blanket around his shoulders as a cold dark wind whipped through the wagon. "I was lost, angry, without a purpose. I killed simply to hear the screams of my fellow man. I lived only so that I might see others die. The money, the women, and notoriety I earned…they were all consequences of killing so many to sate my desire to be _powerful_! I thought I could bring back the dead and when I could not, I resorted to the only life I knew how: the life of killing. I was never truly happy. The man I once was is dead, killed by his own foolish pride."

Karel said nothing.

"I truly believed myself to be the greatest mercenary who ever lived. I fancied myself mightier than Hartmut, more valorous than Roland. I believed myself to be a god among mortals. Everyone else was a dog, a worthless cur not fit to even stand in my shadow. And that was because without that, I knew I would have been weak, insignificant, without reason to exist. And without that…" Renault turned away to look at the wall. The expression on his face, hidden away, was one of pain. He felt his soul echo in his chest. "Without that, I would have been dead long, long ago."

Karel said nothing.

"And I knew that there must be a reason that I lived. I gave my trust to a man who I believed would make me immortal. I thought that my pride had earned me the respect of every man and woman on Elibe! Now I know that there must be a reason I yet live. I believe that there is a reason for everything that happens in this world. You may not believe that, and I would respect that choice. You must find your own path, son. But when I see you, and I see the mistakes you have made, the mistakes you regret, the regret that you hide behind your hatred...I will not let you fall victim to the scourges that claimed me. It was not until I lose someone dear to me that I realized how ephemeral all the things in life are. We are all meant to die one day, and God willing we will find ourselves rewarded for our good deeds. Do not let something you hold dear be lost before you realize the error of your ways. I refuse to believe I am beyond redemption. Nor do I believe that of you. If anything," Renault stood up, and nearly yelled, "I will die to prove your life! If you believe nothing else, believe this! Kill me now, if you wish, but I will never be the one to strike you down."

Karel said nothing. Then, "Do you honestly feel that way, bishop?"

"You are a good man," Renault said, looking down upon Karel. "A fundamentally good man who has been led astray. I know. The Saint can affirm, I know, all too well. If you wish it, I will die here, die as I should have done a long time ago. If you yet live, then one day you will understand. If a wretch like me can be saved, then so can you."

Karel's head sank down into his shoulders. He looked away, and eventually his eyes returned to the bishop. "I am so tired, bishop," he said. "Tired listening to the distant words of fools and madmen. So, so tired."

Renault knelt at the man's side and looked into his eyes.

"Then sleep. Elimine has said that all Her children are Saints in their sleep. You will be redeemed in the morning. We may all be redeemed in the morning. All we must do is believe. I do not have much left to me. All I have is my mind and my faith. All I can do now is believe."

Karel closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep. Renault sat against the wall and breathed.

"Believe."


	5. Nino, who seeks a guide

_Part V: Nino, who seeks a guide_

- O -

From a distance the Isle of Valor seemed small; nothing compared to the Western Isles, anyway. The journey through the unblemished forests was anything but easy even on such a small isle, and every day, every single time they found themselves lost, or their wagons caught passing through some lowland mire, seemed to last an eon. One day, as Renault walked beside the caravan through a small grove, he felt a gentle but insistent tap on his arm.

"Yes?" he said, looking over and down. A short young girl with bright green hair walked beside him, an anima tome cradled in the crook of her arm. She met his glance and smiled placidly.

"Father Renault? D-Do you have a minute?"

Renault scratched his head. "I have very many minutes, actually. What is it you need, lass?"

"Um..." Her voice trailed off. She folded her arms over her tome and held it close to her chest. "My name is Nino. I'm an—I'm a mage. I cast magic and I can use a staff too, a little."

"I could tell by the book you're carrying. A tome of a spell called Elfire, correct?" Renault said.

Nino lifted her head up. "Wow. Not many people could tell what this book was just like _that_. Can you use elemental magic, Father Renault?"

The burdened bishop shook his head. "No. I've lived a very long life and know a lot about many types of weapons. That's all."

"Oh. Well, it's still impressive. My m—a woman named Sonia taught me to be an anima mage. It took a lot of practice. Mostly watching her and doing everything she used to do. She wouldn't give me any formal lessons at all."

_Just by watching? She must have some talent!_

High above the forest canopy a light rain began to fall. Nino shifted her tome back to under her arm and pulled her cloak closer with her free hand.

"Hm, practice," Renault mumbled. "That's good. You don't become strong overnight. In anything."

"How about you? How long did it take you to become good at light magic?"

The bishop had to stop himself from laughing. By the time he spoke again, the rain had stopped and the sun poked hesitantly from behind a belt of clouds.

"I'm still not good at light magic. Nor at staves. As a practitioner of the teachings of Elimine, I am no better than an acolyte, truth be told."

"If the anima and the light were more alike, I would help you practice," Nino said. "But I'm not sure how light magic works. Is all it takes to use light magic a belief in the power of a God?"

Renault didn't know. When he'd cast aside his sword and taken the cloth, he'd studied in the staff and in the godly magics, but whether or not it was his faith which had sustained him, he couldn't rightly say. After all, in his youth he'd used an axe and a spear as easily as a sword. Everything had seemingly come easily to him, as long as it involved the instruments of war.

"Perhaps it is," Renault said. "If a man like me could end up with tomes like these in hand after his long road, I suppose that _is_ truly all you need."

- O -

Renault wondered if the dreams would take hold of him again that night. It was a recurring nightmare now, every time a little different but every time the same. Less a nightmare than a memory, a persistent memory that dug its claws into his conscience and would never let go. The feeling of cold steel in his hands and then the splash of blood lukewarm against his face. The sound of a young boy's scream strangling itself in his throat and dying, and the sight of darkness upon darkness all around, spiraling downward and downward and downward.

_Is this part of my penance? _he wondered. _To relive the horrors that I have wrought? Or are these prophetic visions? The darkness tempting me, calling me to butcher mercilessly and without feeling again, waiting for that one single moment of weakness. Oh, God, speak to me. I need you now, more than ever. Please, just tell me if I am on the right path to repentance. Lord, spare me this knowledge just once!_

"Father Renault!"

Renault looked up, shaken from his reverie. The young girl had not spoken with him for several days, and it wasn't until the night when the skies opened up and began to sob that she returned.

_Perhaps I _didn't_ bore her to distraction. Miracle of miracles!_

"Father Renault, there you are!" Nino removed her wet cloak and the mostly-dry book from within and placed it on the floor of the wagon beside the old priest.

"Nino, you're drenched!"

"I know! I ran over to the wagon at the front of the convoy. Uncle Merlinus gave me an extra ration of cheese today!"

"Yes, well he is a..." Renault paused. He chose his words carefully. "...very decent man."

"Uh huh! I'm so glad he's around. My stomach rumbles all the time now, so at least it's good when he can spare a _little_ bit extra for me, yes?"

"Why have you come here in the rain? You could easily take ill standing out in the cold."

"Are you worried about me?" Nino tilted her head and regarded Renault oddly. "I—I mean, I'm fine. Please don't worry about me, Father!"

"I don't see what business you could have at this—"

"Here!" Nino picked up the book she'd shielded with her cloak and thrust it into the bishop's hands.

"Your...Elfire tome?"

"Nope! It's something else."

"It's a bit too dark to read."

"Oh, I can fix that!" Nino reached into her cloak, and before Renault could scream at her not to use her fire tome to create a light, she pulled out a candle sitting on a small bronze tray, and he sighed in relief. _Then_ she pulled out her Elfire tome and lit it, and he had no energy left to argue or caution her one way or another.

"There, is that better?" she asked as she set the candle beside him. The bishop merely nodded. As he read, he realized it was an account of some sort, a journal of a man named Jude and his experiences becoming father of a baby girl.

"Nino, what is this book?"

"Before I left home...not my real home, I mean the Black Fang...I found this book in my—in that woman's room."

"I see." Renault continued to leaf through the book. "Is there something in here you wished for me to see?"

Nino fell silent. She sat against the side of the wagon, knees up, and cradled her legs with her hands. "Could you read it to me, Father Renault?"

He had expected her to show him a great many things that book might have contained, a great many violent things, things even he might have forgotten. Renault looked through the book again and then to Nino, shy and embarrassed in the corner.

"Please, Father Renault," Nino said. "I want to know what it says. What Sonia was keeping from me all those years."

"Yes...yes, of course," Renault said. "But why me? There had to have been someone else willing to read to you."

"I was too embarrassed," Nino admitted, her voice little more than a whisper. "If other people found out I could use magic but didn't know my letters, they—they'd make fun of me. I'd have to pretend I did."

To this, Renault could not speak.

"But when I'm around you, Father Renault, I feel...calm. Like you'd never judge me badly even after you knew I couldn't read. Right?"

_Me, judge you? _thought Renault as Nino fought back tears. _I would be the greatest hypocrite. There's only one I would judge, one man who has done more evil than me..._

"O-Of course, Nino. I won't judge you, child."

A smile like a bolt of lightning spread to her face. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the back of her wet sleeve. "I'm so happy," she managed breathlessly. "All I want is to find out...you know about, about my mother, my _real_ mother, and my father, and my life before all—all the—"

With a sudden start, Nino sneezed violently, once and then again and then again. For the first time Renault noticed her shivering in the dim candlelight. Her knees almost shook and her teeth had started to chatter.

"You're going to catch a cold!" Renault admonished, and quickly undid his surplice. Down only to his hauberk and tunic, he began to feel the cold more intensely himself. His arms scarred from battle turned to gooseflesh and a bitter chill settled down on his stout shoulders. Without hesitation, he threw his vestments over Nino's shoulders, and equally quickly the young mage pulled them over her shoulders and hunkered down.

"There," Renault said. "None of us can afford to fall ill, not now. Where we are going, we cannot afford even the slightest weakness."

To the bishop's eternal surprise, Nino giggled.

"Thank you, Father. Thank you. It's really..._really_ cold."

"It was nothing. Now look, I'll read to you if you still want?"

She nodded.

Renault began. "'Entry I: I'm writing in this journal to celebrate the birth of my second child, a beautiful daughter named Nino...'"

- O -

The army of Lords Hector and Eliwood had not been on the Dread Isle long. They had been on Valor before—in fact, Renault had met one of their ranks the first time they visited, long before he had decided to marry his cause to theirs. In the short time since he'd joined with them, the weather had been so inclement that Renault could only wonder—between sternly castigating himself for the myriad misdeeds of his erstwhile self—if it was an omen. Every night since the first, Nino had come to Renault's empty caravan with her father's journal under her arm, every night the skies had opened up and left her soaked with rain, and every night he lent her his robes to drape over her shoulders. Over one week, Renault had almost read all of Jude's journal, reciting to Nino about her as an infant, her older brother, her mother Iris, and their life together in a manor house in the Etrurian hills.

They had nearly all reached the Dragon's Gate and still the rains refused to subside. That night, the caravan stopped and Nino again went to Renault, cloak stretched high to cover her head.

"So you took my advice, then?" Renault said, a smile flickering across his drawn face.

"Yep!" Nino said cheerfully. She rubbed the top of her head. "See, my hair is only a little damp! I'm not going to be wearing my cloak anyway! Oh—it's all right to borrow your bishop clothes again, isn't it?"

"It was no trouble before, and it is no trouble now," replied Renault, again removing his robes and again leaning back against the wagon's side in only hauberk and tunic.

"Sorry to ask so much. I was so much trouble to—to Sonia, so I don't want to be trouble to you too. My not-real father always said I was a good girl, but Sonia always said I was a scamp when he wasn't looking. I tried so hard to act better but it never worked."

"It seems so easy to do good, to love and be loved." Pulling at the collar of his tunic mindlessly, Renault sighed. "It isn't."

"I really did love her. Even when I found out she was really a..." Nino lowered her voice and continued, "...a monster, a part of me wanted to love her. I know Father—my not-real father—loved me, and Uncle Jan loved me, and Lloyd and Linus loved me, and Uncle Legault loved, and Uhai loved me too, but it wasn't the _same_. She never ever, ever really loved me."

_Yes, I know. How easy it is to love nothing and no one._

"But, it sounds like you were loved by very many."

"I...I don't..." Nino sniffled and turned her head away as she began to cry. "I don't want...why did we have to fight them...we were happy! Why?"

"And you loved them in turn. And you are a good girl, have no doubt. It isn't easy, but you have done what so many others could not. To love and be loved."

"Some of my old clothes. They-they still _smell_ like my old house. They make me think of my Daddy, and my old room, and eating breakfast with Liney and Lloyd. I want to go back!" Nino turned to Renault, lower lip trembling, small columns of tears streaming down her chin. "But I can't go back! I just want to go home again!"

_Such a young child...and all she can do is long for the past. Is this all we can do as people? Mourn for the past?_

The bishop swiftly rose to his feet, and with alacrity he thought he no longer possessed, sat beside the young mage and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Oh, Father Renault...why? Why do bad things have to happen? One after another? What did I do to God to deserve this?"

_If I knew the answer to that..._

"Hush, be well. You did nothing wrong. Nothing wrong. I'm sorry, but I'm not fit to speak for God. I'm not fit to speak for anyone any more. But where I have failed, you have not. You have a good heart, Nino. You—trouble yourself no longer. Your hardships are coming sooner in life than others; one day you'll look back upon these days and be glad the storm is behind you."

On cue, a bolt of lightning lit the inside of the wagon and almost immediately afterwards a rolling peal of thunder roared. Nino jumped, and to Renault's shock, began to laugh.

"Guess the storm's not behind me yet!" Nino said, covering her mouth with her hands, her sudden sunny smile a rainbow through her torrent of tears. Even Renault had to chuckle in kind.

"You don't have to lament the past," Renault said. "What's done is done. You can't bring back a fallen friend, no matter how much their loss has hurt you. But it's not late for you to make new friends, believe me. To find others to call family. You're still young. You have time. So, so much time."

"You know," said Nino, still sniffling, "you remind me a lot of my Uncle Jan. Well, he wasn't really my uncle, but he said a lot of really serious, deep stuff like you do. You don't like to drink and argue as much as he did, but still!"

"I see. I'm glad you feel so."

"Thank you for spending all this time with me, Father Renault. It's almost like I have a real 'Father' again!"

"I'm far too old to be anyone's father. Even if I don't seem so. I've seen far too much for my age."

"Well...can I call you Grandpa, then?"

Renault looked down in Nino in disbelief, but even as he looked, the smile on her face did not disappear and he realized that no, she was being serious.

"Well—if you want to, then...ah, very well. I never had children of my own, so..."

_Or perhaps I do. Ones who grew up around the world wondering what they'd done to deserve a father who sowed his seed and abandoned them. Lord have mercy._

"That's all right," Nino replied. The bishop had removed his arm from her shoulders, but now she rested her hand against his and patted it gently. "You'll be great at it. And I promise I'll be good. I swear on all of my tomes!"

"And I will be good as well. As long as we are travelers together I won't abandon you. I swear it on my faith.

Renault felt a dark, heavy weight settle on his chest. He didn't know why he suddenly felt such anxiousness tugging at him, or why his words seemed so acutely foreboding, but in that moment, he felt the dread of the Dread Isle settle over him in full.

"Thank you, Grandpa Renault! Can you read the rest of my father's diary to me?"

"Y-Yes...yes of course," said Renault, opening the journal as the wind began to howl. "Let's pick up where we left off. 'Entry XLII: Today, me and Iris prepared...'"


End file.
